


Prophetic Prompts

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Series: Absconding with Harry verse [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absconding with Harry verse, And Aziraphale and Crowley too, Ficlet, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Harry Needs a Hug, Prompt Fill, They all need hugs, found family trope, soft, they're all adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: “Tally-ho, then.”“Never say that again, angel."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Absconding with Harry verse [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1399645
Comments: 51
Kudos: 683
Collections: Harry Potter Crossover Family Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So a little series of prompt fills for ya'll. I'm answering these on tumblr and sharing them here. Hopefully ya'll will like them. Not all of these will be canon for Absconding with Harry but it's still gonna be fun :)
> 
> Tumblr post is here, btw: [Recovery bonding](https://obaewankenope.tumblr.com/post/190462216022/im-soft-for-recoverybonding-so-those)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr post is here, btw: [Recovery bonding](https://obaewankenope.tumblr.com/post/190462216022/im-soft-for-recoverybonding-so-those)

Harry has problems, they all know it. Some of them are typical of a pre-teen but some of them aren’t. Disliking certain foods, not wanting to wear specific items of clothing: these are normal and you expect them of a child. Ducking their head when voices are raised, startling at sudden hand movements, shaking and hyperventilating at the thought of going into the supply cupboard at school: these  _aren’t_ normal. 

One such time when Harry exhibits something that isn’t normal for a child, Aziraphale is the one who witnesses it. He doesn’t quite understand Harry’s reaction, what with him being an ethereal being, but he’s lived on earth since the start and has seen a lot of human suffering. The issue Aziraphale has with Harry’s reaction is that he doesn’t expect to see it in a  _child_ . Perhaps a little naive of him, but who can blame Aziraphale for thinking that people wouldn’t traumatise children so. 

Children shouldn’t fear being denied food for being children. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says quietly, that evening, to the demon sprawled on his usual sofa. Crowley is lazing about, pretending to be asleep, but the angel is well-aware of when Crowley is sleeping. It creates an absence in his awareness—something Aziraphale doesn’t think about because it raises some _very_ daunting questions—that is currently lacking. 

“What is it, angel?” 

Harry is reading a book that he was looking at earlier in the day, which Aziraphale took note and thusly gifted Harry to read at the boys own pace. The child is engrossed in the contents of the life of Merlin—more the magical feats the warlock performed in his lifetime, Aziraphale guesses—and the distraction affords Aziraphale the opportunity to discuss certain things with Crowley.

“Have you noticed some… certain behaviours in our young ward?” The angel asks, hoping that Crowley is observant enough to have noticed the same things Aziraphale has. Of course, he’s well-aware that Crowley _is_ observant, but he’s uncertain as to whether Harry has… _slipped up i_ n front of the demon. 

“Angel.” Crowley’s voice is rather flat for the demon. It’s quite a tone that Aziraphale recalls from very pressing times where Crowley was… not necessarily disappointed in Aziraphale, no, something more like… trying to pretend he was unaffected by the circumstances they found themselves in.

Like during The Flood.

Oh.

“I wasn’t certain, dear,” Aziraphale says, placing a hand on Crowley’s arm, lightly. The demon doesn’t tense beneath his hand which is good. That definitely means he’s not angry at Aziraphale only just noticing this. “I didn’t want to presume horrors.”

“Always the optimist.” Crowley shakes his head. 

Not always, Aziraphale thinks, not when it comes to you. 

“What are we going to do, Crowley? We’re not- we- he’s a human child, surely he should be with humans?” Aziraphale fumbles.

Crowley turns his head and looks at the angel from behind those sunglasses he always wears. Even with the lenses, Aziraphale can tell Crowley is looking at him with the closest the demon can come to disdain for him. 

“Oh yeah, lets just give the kid with a Her-given prophecy floating all over them to some random humans, wash our hands of the problem,” Crowley says and there’s biting sarcasm in his voice. Enough that Aziraphale flinches. “Sounds like a real great idea, that. Not like heaven or hell will want us to check on him or anything. Nah. Just be another two people who screw him over, that’s a right good idea, angel. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”

“Oh, all right, there’s no need to be rude,” Aziraphale says and Crowley snorts. “I’m just- Crowley, when was the last time you spent any time with a child?” The angel bites his lip. “I haven’t interacted with children since Egypt was two kingdoms!”

“So you’re nervous about dealing with a kid and- what- figured throwing said kid at whatever human you think suitable is the best solution?” Crowley shakes his head. “I didn’t take you for such an uncaring bastard, angel.”

“That isn’t fair, Crowley.” Aziraphale scowls. “I want Harry to be happy and well-cared-for, but we’re both immortal beings,” Aziraphale says, and he may sound a little sad now, because Crowley looks at him with his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m also- I don’t want to watch him grow and die. I’m- I’m afraid of how much it will _hurt_.”

“So you’re scared?”

Aziraphale hesitates. “Not just for myself,” he answers slowly. “I remember how you were with the flood, Crowley. The children in Egypt. I don’t want you to suffer needlessly, dear.”

“Angel.” Crowley stands smoothly, facing Aziraphale and he removes his sunglasses. There’s a lot of emotion in those golden eyes—eyes that Aziraphale has always found to be ethereal and beautiful, though he may never admit it aloud—that Aziraphale is very familiar with. He’s seen Crowley react to horror and pain the way Aziraphale himself never could. He always argues that it’s all part of The Plan, that he’s just a footsoldier, there to perform a duty, not to care—not to blame. Crowley is different. The demon feels it all, lives with it.

Is it any wonder that Aziraphale’s fears with raising Harry have more to do with Crowley than they do the angel himself?

“It’s never needless,” Crowley says. “ _Never_.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale probably sounds stupid to Crowley. He feels a little stupid too. “Well then.”

Crowley nods. “Yep.”

“Tally-ho, then.”

Crowley grimaces. “Never say that again, angel,” he says and Aziraphale smiles.

* * *

Harry, looks at the angel and demon who have taken him in, took him away from people who hated him for things he had no control over, for reasons that he cannot be blamed for. He looks at them, standing close together, smiling at each other, not realising Harry is aware of them. And he smiles.

He doesn’t know what they were talking about, but he certainly understands that they’ve made a decision regarding Harry’s future. It’s clear to see in the way they give him a kind look  and are patient with him no matter the circumstances. It means more than he knows how to explain, can’t voice it aloud because he doesn’t have the words. Maybe one day… maybe he’ll be able to tell them both how much it meant that Crowley came and took him away the Dursleys.

Either way. It doesn’t matter.

He’s happy here and he has a feeling he’s here to stay.

Call it a prophetic sort of thing, maybe. Though he needs to look up what ‘prophetic’ means. 

“Mister Fell,” Harry says, drawing Crowley and Aziraphale’s attention. “Do you have a dictionary?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the course of Harry’s second year, Aziraphale and Crowley have come to an agreement. That agreement revolves, ultimately, around not waiting for Dumbledore to give them information about anything Voldemort-related. To wait is to leave Harry in potential danger.
> 
> Neither of them want Harry to die.
> 
> Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley both could bring him back if they’re quick enough, but if they’re not-
> 
> Better for there not to be a risk at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nonnie's request was a bit... [angsty](https://obaewankenope.tumblr.com/post/190464619047/this-is-angst-but-what-if-crowley-and-aziraphale) lol. Of course this had to be angsty too. Heh.

During the course of Harry’s second year, Aziraphale and Crowley have come to an agreement. That agreement revolves, ultimately, around not waiting for Dumbledore to give them information about anything Voldemort-related. To wait is to leave Harry in potential danger.

Neither of them want Harry to die.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley both could bring him back if they’re quick enough, but if they’re not-

Better for there not to be a risk at all.

When Crowley figures out it’s a Basilisk petrifying the students, both of them decide to be proactive. Aziraphale searches for McGonagall to lock the school down and Crowley- Crowley begins planning to call the serpent out in order to kill it. He’d rather not, Basilisks are somewhat rare nowadays—he knows of a single nest in Rome that’s hidden from everyone, magical and non-magical alike—but this particular Basilisk is beyond saving. It’s attacking children. No matter the reason, Basilisks don’t hunt children. They don’t hurt innocents.

They devour evil things, cruel beings.

Unless those students are evil, then something is very, very wrong with the Basilisk of Salazar Slytherin and Crowley feels obligated to do something about it.

In another timeline, Harry and Ron seek out Crowley when traversing the corridors, intending to share the location of the Chamber entrance. But in this timeline, they don’t find him after the ten minutes they agree to devout to finding Harry’s uncle, meaning they descend into the Chamber alone.

It’s perfectly normal then that both Aziraphale and Crowley panic when they’re informed that Harry and Ron aren’t in the Gryffindor dormitory. Aziraphale employs his eyes, all of them, to see see see until he can find the barest traces of the boys beneath the school. It’s enough for angel and demon to move through time and space and appear in the middle of a cavernous Chamber just in time to see a figure laughing and aiming his wand at two ginger-haired children.

“Oi! Not fucking happenin’!”

Aziraphale and Crowley move and protect two children from a shade of one that is long-gone. They do it with the focus and control of beings who are thousands of years old and then some. But they search desperately for the sight of the one child they’re worried for the most.

The child they consider their own.

“Harry!” Aziraphale cries and he sounds so very sad, so very broken that it steals Crowley’s attention from the shade. “CROWLEY!”

Crowley sees the angel, kneeling beside two ginger children, clutching a third child hidden by those ginger ones. It’s this point in time and reality that it’s proven that a demon can have a heart capable of breaking. That grief can destroy one strong enough to survive Falling and Burning.

There’s pain and then there’s this _loss_.

“No. No, no, no.”

He falls to his knees. They sting and burn in water that feels like acid to his body. 

“ _Kill them all.”_

Crowley’s head turns automatically, looking at the source of the hissed words.  Standing there, smug as smug can be, is that shade, brandishing a wand that Crowley recognises. The sight of that wand, those hissed words, and the sound of a doorway opening with more hissing behind it, drives whatever control Crowley possesses out of the window.

He’s Angry.

He’s Grieving.

He’s a Demon and he’ll make sure this shade feels the pain of hell before it ceases to be for what its done.

He lunges, all of him, wings and burning eyes and fire and claws. Slashing and cutting, digging deep and burning away at all that he touches.

The shade screams. 

Crowley screams louder.

It explodes in a burst of burning light, more intense than even the most divine light She has ever graced the universe with. Leaving an absence in its place when it fades away. Only Crowley remains. 

The hissing sound draws his focus then, when there’s no more shade to rip and tear and burn. 

He was right. It is a Basilisk.

It streaks across the Chamber, straight for him and Crowley meets it. He shifts, growing larger than the Basilisk, hellfire and grief burning in the scales of his serpentine form. Horns of black fire. Eyes and teeth that are whitest white. He is something no human has ever seen and no human ever should see.

Whatever pity, whatever meagre helping of humanity Crowley has, is consumed by his grief and rage as he tears into the Basilisk. Scales and flesh, venom and blood, all of it yields to what Crowley is, what he has always been.

All that’s left in the end is a husk of what was once a terrifying beast and Crowley. Just him. In the middle. Human again.

“Crowley! Crowley!”

Sound filters through human ears, bringing with it Aziraphale’s voice and the sound of Crowley’s own ragged breathing.

He sounds like he’s been crying.

The flickering flames in the water beneath him confirms it. Hellfire has its match in hellwater, one that comes only from demons who can cry. Demons like Crowley.

“Crowley!”

He turns his head slowly, weak and exhausted. Broken. Aziraphale is kneeling, wings protecting the children from the chaos and destruction Crowley’s wrought. There’s dust and dirt on those beautiful, white wings. But no blood. Crowley’s temper wasn’t for his angel and he’s done no damage to him and the children.

“-ngel.”

“He’s alive, Crowley! He- he’s alive!”

Crowley doesn’t understand what his angel is saying but it filters through eventually, his mind processing the words and the sight of a pale-brown face with black messy hair clutched tightly to Aziraphale’s chest. Harry.

“He’s injured, but he’s _alive_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale says. “He’s alive.”

Crowley half-staggers to his feet, crosses the distance to the angel and drops down painfully on the stone floor. His hands are shaking as he reaches out and touches Harry’s face gently.

“He- he’s—” Crowley breathes deeply “—the Basilisk bite him,” he realises, and all that fiery anger, that grief, flares at the prospect of still losing Harry before Crowley tamps it down. He needs to focus on saving his son- his son.

He can’t fall apart again now.

“I can fix this, I can fix this,” he breathes, drawing on the power he seldom uses in the world. It flows through him, into Harry and nudges the magic in Harry’s core to assist in expelling the venom poisoning him. It takes only a few moments but it’s a lifetime in Crowley’s eyes.

It’s a lifetime where he could lose Harry even with this power at his disposal.

And it’s absolutely  _terrifying_ .

“He’s okay, angel,” Crowley whispers. He’s exhausted now. Both physically and emotionally. His power is still strong but he’s tired. This has been too much. But there’s so much more to do. So much. “He- he’s _okay_.”

No one can blame him for crying again.

Least of all the angel who is crying for the same reason.

Definitely not.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated :)


End file.
